


Release From Bonds

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU - Aredhel and Maeglin end up in Doriath on their way to Gondolin, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Mentions of past emotional and physical abuse of Maeglin and Aredhel by Eöl, Tolkien Femslash Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 12:56:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1983825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As they flee from Nan Elmoth, Maeglin and Aredhel are captured on the marches of Doriath. As Aredhel sits alone in a cell in Menegroth that night, Lúthien comes to hear her story. </p><p>(Prompt: Aredhel/Lúthien, for Tolkien Femslash Week)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Release From Bonds

Lúthien was not sure she could fully explain to herself, in that moment, why she did it.

She was standing in an alcove behind her father’s throne, talking to Galadriel when the doors burst open.

“My king!” said Mablung, hurrying into the throne room and dropping to one knee before the king’s stone seat. “We caught these two on the marches.” He gestured behind him, where four marchwardens held the arms of the two prisoners. “The woman claims she is the daughter of the chieftain of the Golodhrim - ”

“High King of the Ñoldor” spat the woman, hatred in her eyes.

“…and that the boy is her son. But we caught her once before, trying to get through the Girdle, and cautioned her that things would go ill for her if she made a second attempt. Now she is back, with her son in tow, completely disregarding that warning.”

“That was  _years_  ago!” she snapped. Irritably, she tried to shake off the hand of the marchwarden that held one of her arms. “Get  _off_  me!” She turned back to Thingol as his court watched in silence. “My lord - ”

“ _Your highness_ ” corrected Mablung.

She rolled her eyes insolently, wincing as the marchwarden gave her arm a hard squeeze. “ _Your highness_ , hear me, we were only trying - ”

“To me the situation seems clear” said Thingol smoothly, interrupting her. “You were warned once. That should have been enough. Besides, how do I know you are who you say you are, and not a servant of the great Enemy? Do you have any proof?”

“Please, your highness!” burst out Galadriel suddenly. “I know her. This truly is the princess Aredhel, the daughter of Fingolfin. She is one of my oldest friends. The boy I do not know but… please at least  _hear_  her, if only for my sake.”

Thingol looked at Galadriel for a long moment, before nodding curtly. He turned to Aredhel. “So, what have you to say for yourself? The boundaries set for your people were perfectly clear, and not at all unreasonable.”

“Thank you, your highness” said Aredhel tartly. “My son and I did not _mean_  to pass through Doriath at all, as it happens. We were fleeing along the river on the way to my brother’s city. It was not our fault your marchwardens abducted us.”  
Mablung seemed about to speak, but Thingol quieted him. “What were you fleeing?”

Aredhel’s face soured. “My husband, Maeglin’s father, Eöl.” She glared at Thingol, her voice sarcastic. “Perhaps you know him?”

“I gave him leave to dwell in Nan Elmoth and govern it as he chooses, in return for some treasures of his own devising. What of it?”

‘He ensnared me there” said Aredhel, her voice dripping with revulsion. “And he married me, and then tried to keep our son as a thrall in all but name” – she reached up to kiss Maeglin’s temple, squeezing his hand – “but we escaped.  We were lost, and, it appears, we wandered too close to your realm.” Her eyes burned, a challenge. “Do you hold us in the wrong for that?”

Thingol raised an eyebrow. “Eöl is faithful to my rule, a loyal vassal who has ever been a credit to Doriath.”

Aredhel snorted. “Ah yes, I daresay he is all those things. I am afraid he also takes his women by force and threatens to set his son in bonds.”

Thingol’s brow furrowed. “What evidence do I have that you are not lying? And that you are not spying for your father or brother?”

Aredhel looked outraged but her son spoke first, straining in the grip of the marchwardens. “King or no, how dare you speak like that to my mother!”

She made to lay a calming hand on his arm but the marchwardens were already restraining them both, the throne room guards rushing to help.

Aredhel’s eyes bulged wide as a heavy hand was covered her mouth, pressing too hard even for her to try to bite. Lúthien could stand to watch no more. “Ada” she said, going to stand behind her father’s throne and draping her arms around his shoulders. “Let them go. She is Galadriel’s friend, and truly, I do not think either of them pose any danger. Give them rooms for the night, them send them off

 in the morning, to continue their journey.” Thingol hesitated. Lúthien continued, still unsure of quite why she was defending this Aredhel; she knew at least that it was not only for Galadriel’s sake. “What harm can it do? If they were servants of the enemy, or not what they seem, they would not have been able to get through the Girdle, after all.”

Thingol frowned, looking between Lúthien and Galadriel and the prisoners, and then back to Lúthien. “Alright” he said at last. “So be it.”

——————

There was something about Aredhel that was fascinating to Lúthien, and she found herself noting where she had been put for the night. Aredhel and Maeglin were to be separated, placed in rooms on different levels, with guards posted at both their doors.

The guards on Aredhel’s door, it turned out, were perfectly amenable to letting her through, with an indulgent smile and a whisper of “be careful, princess, for the Golodhrim can be wild and savage when cornered. Why, they would not stop at slaying even their own kin, so I’ve heard.” Lúthien feigned shock. “Why, how perfectly ghoulish. I shall be sure to scream loudly if the poor desperate creature pulls a knife on me.”

“Don’t worry, princess,” said the guard. “We’ll be right outside the door.”  
She gave him her most stunning smile. “Thank you. I shall remember your gallantry.”

The guard blushed a little, and opened the door for her.  _Perhaps_ , Lúthien thought,  _he will tell the others and himself that he assumed I was acting on my father’s orders. Perhaps he does not care._  Either way, she had found that such tactics were extremely useful in getting into places she was not strictly allowed to be.

She entered the room, the snick of the door closing behind her falling loud and sharp into the silence. Aredhel was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at her hands which were clenched together in her lap. “Have you come to - ” she began before looking up, defiance in her face, at Lúthien. “…oh. It’s  _you_. What do you want?”

What  _did_  Lúthien want? “I came to check that you were provided for.”

Aredhel shrugged, gesturing around the sparsely but functionally furnished room. “As you see.” All the while her eyes never left Lúthien, her gaze calculating, piercing, as though trying to break through Lúthien’s concern to see the true intent beneath.  _This one has taught herself not to trust anyone_ , thought Lúthien.  _I wonder what drove her to that._

“Can you please let me speak to my cousin?” said Aredhel suddenly. “She will listen to me, if no one else will, I know it.” She balled her hands into fists. “You can even, I don’t know, clap me in irons or something while I talk to her.” She rolled her eyes. “If it makes you happier.”

Lúthien frowned. “My father the king would not allow Galadriel to speak with you, at least not yet.”

She snorted. “So he sent  _you_?”

“No” said Lúthien. “ _I_ sent me. I am Galadriel’s friend, and can take a message to her, if you have anything you would like to say?”

Aredhel looked down at her hands. “Nothing specific, it’s just…” she looked a little wistful. “…it would have been nice to speak to someone from old times, that’s all. Artanis was my best friend, once, and…” her guard seemed to snap back into place. “Never mind. It matters not. Tomorrow Maeglin and I will be gone, should your father choose to release us, and you will be rid of us for good.” She practically spat the words, but they were touched with an edge of fear, of urgency.

Lúthien frowned, tentatively sitting down on the bed beside Aredhel, a little distance away. “What are you running from?” she said gently.

Aredhel flinched, almost imperceptibly. She was silent for a long moment, and Lúthien did not press her.

“My husband” Aredhel burst out, at last. There was so much vitriol in the words that Lúthien was startled.

“Your - ”

“He was so…” she was biting her lip, as if trying to contain the words that threatened to spill from her mouth. “He was  _kind_ , at first, that was the thing. He was a  _good person_ , or at least he seemed so. And he was different, and wild, and forbidden, and I was just longing to be free, to break out of the awful stifling golden propriety of my brother’s city, and Eöl was so different from…” she was gritting her teeth, fury in her eyes. “Now I realise that it must just have been his enchantments, scrambling my thoughts, playing on my…” she stopped and let out a growl of frustration. “And then, of course I was trapped, damn him. I don’t know who I hate more, Eöl or myself, for falling for it like a fool.”

Lúthien frowned, edging a little closer. “I don’t know about the situation, of course, but…”

Aredhel rounded on her. “No. No you  _don’t_. You never had a son born to a father like  _that_ ” she spat the words, disgust in her voice. “You’ve never had the man you trusted, the man you thought, for a few glorious days, that you  _loved_ ” her hands bunched in the bedsheets, her voice rising in fury “hurt your son, threaten him, emotionally manipulate you, keep you in _bonds_ …” she looked as though she might cry, but her eyes were dry, like kindling about to catch fire, her voice hollow and suffused with bitterness.

Lúthien swallowed, feeling suddenly out of her depth. For all she had known was Doriath, its safety and the protection of her mother’s spells and her father’s kingship. Lúthien had never known real pain, she thought to herself, something like guilt erupting in her heart. She had never had a child, one who depended on her, that she would risk anything for. One who was in danger, whom she could not protect… she felt suddenly, inexplicably nervous.

“Well… you’re safe now. I will make sure of it. I will speak to my father, I will tell him you mean no harm…”

“Oh” Aredhel rolled her eyes, not looking at Lúthien. “Thank you  _very_ much. That will surely sway him. I seem to recall” she raised an eyebrow “that it was your dear, compassionate father that granted Eöl the right to autonomy in Nan Elmoth to begin with? In exchange for a  _sword_ , wasn’t it?” It was not a question, not really. “They have a mutually beneficial relationship, unless I’m mistaken?”

Lúthien was horrified. “I… I didn’t know…” she said in a small voice. “I mean, I knew about father and Eöl, but I didn’t know what he was…”

“No. No, I’m sure you didn’t.”  _An accusation._

There was a long silence.

“Aredhel” said Lúthien at last. “You’re free of him, you know that? I will protect you. I will  _make_  my father be kind to you, to send guards with you, to let you go free, to go where you will… where were you going? We can send the marchwardens as your guard, they will protect you and your son both.”  
Aredhel seemed to soften a little. “We were going to my brother, in his hidden city” she said. “And I am afraid I cannot take any of your marchwardens there with me… if we should even keep to that course.”

“ _If_?”

“Eöl will have an extra day or more on us by the time we get out of here” said Aredhel bitterly. “He is surely following, and I fear… that if we continue to my brother’s city now, then we will only lead him straight there. We could go north to my other brother Fingon, or to my father, but it’s a long journey, and over that distance Eöl might very well catch us on the way…” she was staring at her hands again, her voice coming in nervous fits and starts. “I don’t really know  _what_  to do anymore” she admitted, a harsh, humourless laugh cracking in her throat.

Lúthien thought this over. “What if you stayed here for a while? He wouldn’t think to look for you here, and between us, Galadriel and I could win my father over, I’m sure of it.”

Aredhel looked into her eyes. “You’d do that? You don’t even know me. You can’t trust me.”

Lúthien suddenly felt a renewed rush of pity for Aredhel.  _She truly has taught herself distrust as her default state. Well she certainly has enough reason to_. “Tell your story to my mother. She will understand.”  _She must understand._

“That is… a kind thing for you to say.” Aredhel seemed almost surprised, Lúthien thought.

“I will do it” said Lúthien. “Come sunrise, I will speak to them. I will fix it.”

“I… thank you.”

They were silent for a while longer. “How is she?” asked Aredhel. “Galadriel, I mean.” She spoke the name as though it were unfamiliar to her. “I thought of her often, during those years, for she was so  _close_ , and yet I couldn’t…” frustration edged back into Aredhel’s voice.

“She was – is – well” said Lúthien. “Celeborn is good for her, I think. They are happy together.” Then she winced, too late, remembering Aredhel’s own situation. “I’m sorry, I - ”

“No, I’m glad. She deserves to be happy” said Aredhel, and she sounded like she meant it.

“Were you… were you close?” asked Lúthien tentatively. She tried to imagine a young Galadriel and a young Aredhel, running carefree in the light of the Trees.

“Yes” said Aredhel shortly. There was something, an edge in her voice.

“Were you… did you…”

Aredhel stared at her intently. “If you mean to ask if we were ever lovers then simply ask the question.”

“Well?” Lúthien found herself unable to keep herself from asking now. “Were you?”

“Yes” said Aredhel, glaring as though daring Lúthien to challenge her. “I had many lovers when I was young. We were all thoroughly debauched in Valinor” a glint of humour appeared at the corner of her eye. “Is that what you wanted to hear? I’m sure you’d consider it all very scandalous, being the daughter of a Maia and all.”

“No” said Lúthien slowly, her heart speeding up a little. “Actually…” she hesitated. “Galadriel and I have… I mean, once or twice, before she was married… it was not an affair of the heart, more as two friends offering each other comfort…”

Aredhel’s eyes went wide, a smile of disbelief touching the corners of her mouth. “No! Really?”

Lúthien felt herself colouring. “Yes” she confessed. “It’s stopped now, since, well, she and Celeborn, they are so caught up in each other, so in love. But before they were married he was so insistent on them resisting each other, for by our traditions that is what a bride and groom are to do…”

Aredhel snorted. “What a dismal tradition” she said. “With all due respect. princess” she added, bobbing her head, in a slight mockery of a bow.

Lúthien felt herself smiling too, drawing a little closer. “Galadriel thought so too. We were dear friends, and, well… things happened.”

Aredhel grinned wickedly. Lúthien got the impression that it was not an expression she had had much use for lately. “She is glorious, is she not? I am envious. I missed her.” Aredhel frowned. “I can see what she saw in you.”

Lúthien’s voice hitched in her throat. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know you’re beautiful. You’re obscenely beautiful. It really isn’t fair.”

Lúthien had not been expecting this. Or perhaps she had been, perhaps she had been secretly hoping for it. “I…”

Aredhel smiled warmly. “Anyway. Perhaps her taste in women is ‘close friends with long dark hair’, hmm?”

Lúthien smiled at her, sidelong, relaxing a little. “She does have good taste. You are beautiful too.”

Aredhel pursed her lips. “Several people I thought I loved told me that. _Eöl_  told me that, even as he bound me closer to him, only to hurt me. I find the compliment, though meant well, to be rather unpleasant.”  
“I’m sorry” said Lúthien, cursing her stupidity. Suddenly she realised what she wanted, why she had come here, perhaps, and felt a stab of shame. _Aredhel was in pain, the wounds in her soul still open and raw, she should not be thinking…_

“Princess” said Aredhel, her gaze piercing again.

“Yes?”

They stared at each other for a long moment, their faces level. “Why did you come to see me tonight?”

“Because…” Lúthien considered. “I wanted to make sure you were alright. I did not like to see the way they treated you back there. I love my father, but he can be so fantastically  _wrong_  sometimes.”

Aredhel laughed. “Of course.” Her smile dropped a little, twisting into a slight frown of puzzlement. “Why else?” she asked abruptly.

“I…” Lúthien took a deep breath. “I admit, I found…  _find_ … you… _fascinating_.”

Aredhel’s eyes narrowed, the old distrust beginning to creep back. She drew a little closer, so their faces were level, using her close vantage point to scrutinise every detail of Lúthien’s face. “What do you mean by that? Speak plainly.”

Aredhel truly  _was_ beautiful, Lúthien found herself thinking, feeling the shame return. Her skin was darker than Lúthien’s own, without the slight pearlescent shimmer that came from Lúthien’s Maiarin blood. She looked paler than she should be though, like a plant that has been grown in the dark for too long, but nevertheless, there was something acutely sensual about her. Aredhel’s hair was thick and curling and dark, an unkept mop tied carelessly, high on her head, exposing her neck. She had an expressive face, her arching eyebrows thick and dark, quick to twitch into laughter or cynicism. This close, she could see that there was a faint, silvered triangle of scar tissue at Aredhel’s temple. Aredhel caught her looking at it.

“Eöl” she said, with no intonation. “He hit me sometimes, when I disobeyed him. He always wore rings on his fingers.” She was working hard to keep her voice toneless, Lúthien could tell. Aredhel’s face was set, once again daring Lúthien to challenge her. “All I cared about was my son, by the end. When he hurt, I hurt.”

Lúthien opened her mouth slightly. “That’s…”

“Awful, I know” said Aredhel bitterly. “And yet I did not run until now. Do you think me weak, princess?”

“No” said Lúthien, and meant it. “I think you’re the strongest person I have ever met.”

Aredhel gave a bitter laugh. “I don’t even know what that means any more. I just want…” she gripped her temples with both hands, as if to try to squeeze the pain away, and her voice was suddenly pleading. “I just want to forget, if only for tonight. I want to stop running.” She looked up at Lúthien, her eyes beseeching. “I want to be  _safe_. I want my son to be safe.”

“He  _is_  safe” soothed Lúthien. Tentatively, she put her arms about Aredhel’s shoulders. She thought Aredhel might flinch away, but she did not. She felt warm in Lúthien’s arms, trembling a little. “And  _you’re_  safe too. I promise. I won’t let them harm you, or Maeglin.”

Aredhel pulled back, but not so much that she broke free of Lúthien’s embrace. “I can keep us safe myself, thank you.” She looked at Lúthien, their faces brought close by Lúthien’s arms. “But I am grateful for the talk. To have someone to speak to me. To hear my words.”

“Always” said Lúthien, lost in those inscrutable, defiant dark eyes, reflecting the candlelight. Almost unconsciously, they had been leaning a little closer together, and now their faces were almost touching. Lúthien almost felt surprise. After that it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for their lips to brush, their foreheads and noses to bump gently against one another. It was a clumsy kiss, as both held back a little, slightly misjudging what the other would do.

Then their lips were pressing together in earnest, crushed with the force of their embrace, for suddenly both were drawn in, lost in each other… _we only have tonight_ , Lúthien found herself thinking, urgency coursing through her.  _This night, she will be free of pain. This night, at least, she will stop running._ Aredhel’s arms were slipping about Lúthien’s waist as the two of them fell sideways onto Aredhel’s bed, their arms tangled beneath and between them, their ankles hooking together through fabric of Lúthien’s long skirts.

Aredhel’s fingers were entwining in Lúthien’s hair, even as Aredhel’s hair came unbound, spilling over both their shoulders. Aredhel clung to her, her fingers desperate, halting, but her kisses were fierce and hungry.

“So beautiful” Aredhel was murmuring, “so beautiful.” Aredhel’s eyes were half closed as Lúthien kissed her neck, elation filling her, lifting her. For a while their hands roamed over each other, tugging at the other’s clothes. Lúthien was usually graceful, but now her hands fumbled at the buckles at the front of Aredhel’s scratched and scored white leather riding jerkin, even as Aredhel tugged at the shoulders of Lúthien’s dress, letting out little whimpers as she trailed quick, impatient kisses along Lúthien’s collarbones.

Lúthien freed Aredhel’s arms, letting their clothes and the bedsheets tangle together between them. Aredhel had finely muscled arms, Lúthien saw, with a stab of wanting, taut and strong. Even as the thought crossed her mind, she saw that one those arms was ringed with finger-shaped bruising, where the guard had gripped too hard. Lúthien’s stomach dived, and she touched the spot, ever so lightly. “I’m sorry for this” she said.

Aredhel shrugged, doing a passable but not entirely convincing job of appearing not to care. “Don’t be. You shouldn’t blame yourself for things that you are not responsible for.” She looked momentarily troubled, running her fingertips along Lúthien’s jawline. “Princess?” Her lips were full and curving, but they could curl into the most devious of smiles more quickly than a cloud flitting past the moon. “Will you stop worrying and kiss me?”

Without another word, Lúthien leaned forward and kissed her deeply, tongues slipping over lips and teeth and each other. Then Aredhel’s legs were coming up around her waist, bringing her in even closer, the kiss growing inexorable, demanding. In her turn, Lúthien laced her hands though Aredhel’s wild tangle of curling hair, smiling into her lips as Aredhel twitched with pleasure at the slight tug of Lúthien’s fingers in each knot. “You like that?” she whispered in Aredhel’s ear, biting a little at her eartip to underline her words. Aredhel arched her back, her mouth opening in a tiny, soundless cry. 

Lúthien smiled to herself, but her smile was stopped as Aredhel’s lips collided with hers in another fierce kiss. Her hands flitted down Lúthien’s spine, and up and down her breastbone, along the curving lines beneath her breasts, light enough to inflame Lúthien halfway to madness, even as Aredhel kissed her throat, her shoulders. Aredhel was trembling a little.

“Are you alright?” asked Lúthien at last, pulling away reluctantly, her voice thick.

“ _Alright_? I am…” Aredhel’s eyes were wild, aflame. “I… yes. I want…” she seemed to lose the end of the sentence as she kissed Lúthien again, wildly, dragging her close once more. “I feel…  _alive_  again.”

That was the last that either of them said for a while. Lúthien’s heart was fairly bursting from her chest as she held Aredhel down ( _but gently, oh so gently_ ) to the bed, to kiss her stomach, her hips, the silken insides of her powerful thighs, adoration in her gaze each time she looked up into Aredhel’s face, seeing eyes that were dark and glazed with exhilaration.

She was gentle, for Lúthien knew nothing else; it was her way. She let her tongue slip along the line where Aredhel’s leg joined her groin, eliciting a shudder of pleasure which made Lúthien herself smile into the curling dark hair that grew there. She let the tips of her fingers slip between the folds of skin, feeling the slickness there, exploring, and then let her tongue replace them. The taste filled her mouth; and as she began to lick, to trail her tongue back and forth and in tiny circles, she was rewarded by Aredhel’s body beginning to twitch, her hips to rock and buck a little under Lúthien’s touch.  _She has wanted this,_ thought Lúthien _, for so long she has wanted it._ It was a comparatively short time before she brought Aredhel to a climax, muscles rippling in little spasms.  _Even now_ , Lúthien realised,  _she is biting back her cries, pressing her lips closed, ever wary_.

Lúthien rose up, keeping one hand to pleasure Aredhel, and kissed her lips, open mouthed and wanton. “No more running” she whispered. “No more hiding.” There were tears on Aredhel’s face, though whether of sorrow or joy Lúthien could not tell. She kissed them away, but it was only a scant moment before Aredhel had rolled her on her back, pressing her to the bed under her weight. Lúthien smiled up at her as Aredhel’s hair fell around them both, mingling in a dark pool about both their shoulders. Her eyes were bright, intoxicated still, as her fingers slipped lower, wringing a whimper of pleasure from Lúthien’s lips. From there she was lost utterly.

The night drew on, their hands seeking each for the other, compulsively twining together and separating, only for their bodies to lock together again in a new positition. Gasps tumbled from Lúthien’s throat unbidden, words of adoration and lust and desperation, senseless unintelligible things that were more feeling than meaning. It was strange, she thought, the way that one can barely know someone and feel a need for them like this, so sudden and acute. And yet, she reasoned with herself, soon the morning would come and Aredhel would be gone, off on her journey, to disappear from Lúthien’s life forever, like as not.  _Or perhaps she would stay, a little longer at least._ Lúthien, watching Aredhel’s flushed and sated face with fluttering eyelids sometime later, knew she would do anything and everything in her power to make it so, to let her stay for another day, another night… and yet, she knew, if Aredhel wished to go, she would not stand in her way. Aredhel had been caged too long, her wings near broken, but now she had the chance to fly again, and Lúthien would never take that from her.

But for now, at least, they had a few more hours until daybreak.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought it might be vaguely plausible that Aredhel and Maeglin would be taken before Thingol if they were captured at this point, especially since Aredhel had a run-in with the marchwardens of Doriath when she was leaving Gondolin in the first place.


End file.
